


Rebuilding Hermione Granger

by pearconfident



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearconfident/pseuds/pearconfident
Summary: After the war, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went their separate ways. They'd promise to stay friends, but people break promises all the time. When Hermione returned to Hogwarts to finish her last year of studies, she felt adrift and empty. Trying to put together the pieces after a war, she barely survived. But a friendship with Draco Malfoy would change all of that, and lead her to someone she never would expect to save her from the broken pieces of herself. (Hermione x Lucius) All characters and references to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 105





	1. Unlikely Friends

When she'd returned to Hogwarts without Harry or Ron, she expected to spend the entirety of her 7th year quietly. But Hogwarts had never been quiet before, so there was no reason for it to start now. McGonagall had made her head girl, despite her protests. Hermione didn't want to be head girl, not anymore. She didn't want to be in charge of anyone or anything. Not when she could barely get herself out of her bed in the morning. The war, it's memories, and deaths, all of it had affected her much more than she'd ever let on. There was so much that no one knew about _her_ version of the war; she knew she would never be able to take the burden off her shoulders. It would weigh her down until it eventually drowned her. Right now, it was about treading water, keeping her head afloat as possible until she welcomed the sting of the water in her lungs.

It had made it even worse when McGonagall had informed her that the head boy that year would be Draco Malfoy. They'd have a share a common room, a bathroom, they'd have to interact, and Hermione just didn't know if she could stomach that.

Draco ignored her screams the first night he heard them coming from the Head Girls dormitory. He had the nightmares too, different ones to be sure, but he'd woken up screaming more than he cared to admit. He left her alone because despite how her screams made him uneasy, it wasn't his place.

The second time he was awoken by her screams, he sat awake in bed until she quieted down, and even then, it took him hours to fall back into a restless state of sleep.

When he'd found her in an abandoned charms classroom, doubled over and unable to stop hyperventilating, it had been entirely by accident. He thought he'd heard a first year behind the door from the sounds of panic and high-pitched cries.

But it was Hermione. He'd stood in the doorway, shocked for a moment, before stepping in and closing the door behind him. He knew that she wouldn't want to be seen like this, because he never wanted anyone to catch him when he had a panic attack either. He quietly used a secret passage to get her back to their common room, where he summoned a cup of tea and lit a fire for her.

He sat and read in one of the armchairs while she calmed down. Eventually, she got up to go to her room, but she stopped short of his chair;

_"Thank you"_ she whispered,

Before walking past him, but he couldn't shake the empty look of her eyes. That was when he realized she faced more demons than he'd realized, and was utterly overwhelmed because he had no idea how to help her.

They spent more time together and spoke then as the months passed. Eventually, they were almost as close as Hermione and the boys had been. But it was different with Draco; it was just the two of them. It never felt like she was the odd man out because that was what drew them together.

She was a part of the _Golden Trio,_ and people stopped and stared and rarely ever spoke to her without asking about Harry and the war and the blood. And he, he was a _Death Eater_ who'd gotten away with it all in their eyes. He scared them; his wand made them flinch, and his cold eyes made them take detours down unused hallways to avoid him.

They were outcasts; even after everything, they were pariahs. So, they'd clung to each other like a life raft at the beginning, a way to keep themselves from drowning in the loneliness. But then it turned into a genuine friendship, much to the confusion and disgust of those around them. But they didn't care because they were there for each other when the rest seemingly abandoned them. And they had a fair bit in common.

He'd offered her an invitation to Malfoy Manor for the upcoming holiday break when he realized that she'd stopped getting owls weeks ago, and he knew she had no idea where her parents were. And, if he were honest, he would've missed her company. She was his friend, and he'd miss her, and he didn't entirely trust her alone. Despite all of the progress they'd made in becoming friends, he'd seen that cold and empty look in her eyes far too often for it to feel safe leaving her by herself for an extended period, let alone 11 whole days.

She turned down his offer, and he watched her even more closely now.


	2. The Memorial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a memorial held to honor those that Hogwarts lost during the war, but Draco finds it hard to stomach looking at those who have managed to heal. When he retreats to the top of the Astronomy Tower, hoping to find some peace, he finds something even more grim and startling.

Three nights before the break was to begin, there was a dedication to those that died in the final battle. They were putting in a statue in the courtyard, a memorial for all of those who'd been lost. It made Draco sick to his stomach. Not because of the memorialization of the dead, but because of the memories it brought to his mind. The speeches didn't help.

After it was all done, he escaped to the astronomy tower to smoke a cigarette, his secret muggle vice. And when he emerged onto the tower, that was when he saw her. Standing to close to the edge, barefoot, hair blowing in the wind. And in his heart, he knew what she was going to try to do; he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it himself. Though he'd quickly put the thought out of his mind, he had the element of surprise because she didn't know he was there yet. He quickly and quietly walked to her and grabbed her forearm tightly, and ripped her off the edge. The minute she was far from the edge, she crumpled. She sobbed and choked for air and clawed at her hair, she broke. He knew he needed to do something. He needed to get her somewhere safe.

He slipped an arm around her back and one under her knees, and he carried her. She clung to his neck and sobbed into his shoulder, her body shaking and weak. He carried her down from the tower and through the castle and into the front entranceway. People were still gathered from the memorial and stared at them with eyes as big as saucers. One of them dared to take a step towards them, to demand answers, Draco only let out a low and protective growl as he quickened his pace and determination set over him. He walked her down to the front gates of the school, and once he passed the wards, he turned on his heel and apparated them away.

Walking up the long path to Malfoy Manor with Hermione in his arms was more natural than he thought it would be because she weighed almost nothing. But when he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, and he cursed himself.

While everyone was figuring out how to rebuild the Castle and Diagon Alley, he had taken on the task of rebuilding Hermione Granger. A surprising, and at first, unwanted task that he didn't know he needed as much as she did until he realized he was failing at it.

He was met in the foyer by one of the house-elves that his father kept employed at the Manor. His mother had left soon after the war and gone to France alone, and so Lucius needed to the company even if he was unwilling to admit it.

"Master Draco, how can I be of service?" The unfamiliar house-elf asked him.

"Can you prepare a guest room for Miss Granger here? Make sure there is nothing inside with which she can harm herself. And then return to Hogwarts and fetch her and I's belongings, please." Draco instructed, trying his best to keep his face solemn and composed through the fear and utter exhaustion he was feeling.

"Of course, Master Draco, shall I wake Master Lucius?" The elf inquired as it put a levitation spell of the soundly sleeping Hermione, to levitate her to her new rooms.

"Please, I'll meet him in his study," Draco replied, striding off but keeping a wary eye on Hermione. He needed a glass of his father's brandy. Badly.

"Draco, I wasn't expecting your arrival for another couple of days. Nor was I expecting Miss Granger to be accompanying you." Lucius said slowly as he entered his study, watching his son leaning over the bar with his back to him.

"She, she couldn't stay there. And I had nowhere else to take her. I couldn't leave her alone there, not after what I saw." Draco said in a raspy voice on his shoulder, his father catching a glimpse of his messy hair, sunken eyes, and hastily undone tie.

"What did you see, Draco?" Lucius asked, his voice stoic, but his eyes belied the confused curiosity of what might have happened that had led Draco to take such desperate measures.

Since Narcissa had left, he and Draco hadn't kept the best contact except for a confirmation of a Christmas break spent together and a mere mention of Miss Granger. He could tell he was missing much of the puzzle his son was trying desperately to put back together.

"I – I went to the Astronomy Tower after the dedication of the statue. I needed a cigarette, something, and anything to drown out the memories. And I saw her there. On the edge and I could tell she wanted to jump, that she was going to jump. No one paid attention to her anymore; none of her friends write to her. I'm all she has, and I couldn't let her do that." Draco said slowly, his voice shaking, searching carefully for his words.

"I see. The elves told me you ordered Hermione's chambers free of anything she could use to harm herself. They even gave me her wand; they feared for her so greatly." Lucius mused to his son.

"She screamed in her sleep every night, and she's barely hanging on anymore. She wants to end it all, and those damn _friends_ of hers stopped writing months ago! They left her!" Draco roared, throwing his brandy glass into the roaring fire, which spits up large flames in response.

"Draco." His father said, a mix of a warning and comfort. Now more than ever, they needed to control their anger; they were always being watched.

"I know." Draco ground out through clenched teeth and stalked over to one of the leather couches next to the unlit fireplace.

"What do you plan to do with her here for two weeks, then?" Lucius asked, he didn't mind the two of them here, but this house had seen its fair share of tragedy. And a member of the _Golden Trio_ dying in Malfoy Manor would create more problems than they could deal with in this trying time.

"I have no idea. Try to talk to her, I suppose, gain her trust, see what she needs me to do." Draco said, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced.

"Get some sleep son, tomorrow we can both see what we can do for her." He told him with a sad smile.

"You wish to help her?" Draco asked, almost surprised.

"She is a guest in my house now, and I will do what I can for her," Lucius said succinctly before getting up.

"Now get to bed, and we will talk with her over breakfast," Lucius said, striding out of his study.

Draco smiled to himself; it would not be an understatement to say that the end of the war and the end of his marriage had thawed Lucius a bit. More so than Draco had previously thought if his father was willing to allow Granger into his home for two weeks and try to help her.

Silently Draco slipped out of the study and made his way up to his quarters. Hermione's rooms were across the hall from his own, and the elves had even set up a spell to alert either him or Lucius to when she awoke. They seemed to have grown quite concerned from her; maybe they'd heard of her SPEW campaigned or knew of her name from the war. Some of them may even have seen her tortured by Bellatrix in this very house. Either way, it pleased Draco that it wouldn't be entirely up to him to keep her safe from herself.


	3. The Estate is Reawakened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Malfoy Manor was not something Hermione expected after her episode on the Astronomy Tower. She escapes the darkness for a bit and manages to find even more unexpected comforts among the Malfoy men than she ever thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I’ve been writing fanfiction for a while now but only recently worked up the courage to post some of my work. Lucius Malfoy is one of my favorite characters, the possibilities with him after the war are endless! He and Hermione have such potential in the right circumstances! I hope you enjoy this next chapter that I’ve written. I don’t have a beta-reader at the moment so there may be some mistakes, point them out if you notice them! I need all the help I can get. I’m going to try to update this story regularly, but I am about to start a new job and am in school at the moment, so sometimes life gets in the way.

Lucius was sitting at his desk when Tippy, their newest house-elf, popped into his view.

"She's awake, Master Lucius; Master Draco couldn't be woken." She skittered out nervously.

"Thank you Tippy, I will go speak with her shortly," Lucius said, pushing aside the folders of work on his desk, and he rose. He pulled on his vest a bit as he walked towards her rooms. He wasn't worried about seeing her, but he couldn't help but wonder how she would react to being here and him being the first person she saw.

* * *

She was sitting on the edge of the sumptuous bed in only the dress she was wearing last night at the dedication ceremony. She couldn't remember much, only Draco ripping her away from the edge that the memories had driven her too. She could only assume that he had taken her to Malfoy Manor, the only place she knew of that would be this finely decorated and so hauntingly quiet. It felt like years had passed, but years and days meshed when she was in one of her spells. Sometimes it felt like usual again, perfect clarity, which is until the memories came back and she was plunged into darkness once more.

There was a loud pop that grabbed her attention. Tippy, the house-elf was back, this time with some clothes.

"Here's a change of clothes Lady Hermione, the Master is on his way to see you," Tippy told her, before setting the clothes down and apparating away again.

Hermione quickly changed out of her worn dress and into the grey sweater and jeans that were provided for her, and then she waited.

_Master_ , she thought, which could only mean one person _Draco_. He was the one who brought her here and would most definitely be the one to scold her for her foolish actions.

As she was lost in her thoughts, there was a knock on the door, intense and short, nothing like Draco's usual knock, which was an almost playful tapping, she mused.

"Come in." She said the first words she'd spoke all morning crackling out of her throat.

The door opened and in strode Lucius Malfoy, in all of his aristocratic glory. Before any emotions washed over her, she could only observe him. He was wearing a white button-down, covered by a grey tartan vest with a deep green pocket square. His dark grey trousers were clinging slightly to his legs but not too tightly, and a pair of patent leather shoes she could only guess was Italian made.

She was surprised to find that the sight of him did not scare her, or send her tail spinning back into her darkness. He was, however, a slight comfort and distraction, showing her that change was possible after the war but not debasing her for being stuck in the dark and bloody past they had both shared.

He was surprised too.

She looked alive and comfortable in the clothes he had instructed Tippy to bring to her. Not how he expected, he found no look of death in her eyes. For someone so close to ending it all last night, she seemed almost vibrant today, though a little dull around the edges. She had matured since the end of the war, no longer looking the part of teen hero but seemingly the woman who had to pick up the pieces the heroes had left behind.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said, breaking the silence.

"Mr. Malfoy, thank you for extending your home to me this past evening. You're too kind." She responded, and he could see her mask rise and the way her pain was hidden behind chocolate eyes.

"Of course, any friend of Draco's is welcome here at the Manor." He said with a polite smile, but still watching her closely.

"Where is Draco?" She inquired; her polite smile fixed on her face.

"He'll be meeting us downstairs for breakfast," Lucius informed her.

"Wonderful." She smiled.

"But before we make our way to the dining room, I have a question for you, Miss Granger." Lucius challenged, wanting to see if she'd interact with him on a more personal and analytical level.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, ask away." She replied, a genial glint in her eyes.

She enjoyed his conversation; he didn't handle her like an owl for Harry or a broken doll. He treated her like a person, something that she had sorely missed despite Draco's companionship.

"Why aren't you spending Christmas with the Weasley's or Potter?" He asked Draco had informed him over the years they'd been in school together that she often spent her breaks at the Burrow.

She seemed to think for a moment, and he wondered if he had pushed it too far, but as her host, it was well within his rights to ask of the circumstances by which she'd found herself here.

"Unfortunately, we are not on speaking terms at the moment, but I don't wish to dull you with the idle drama of teenagers." She parried back, being polite but keeping her secrets guarded.

"You do not seem to be a teenager any longer, my dear," Lucius replied before beckoning her out into the hallway so they could make their way to breakfast.

She only smiled at him and followed him out of what she assumed were going to be her rooms here until she returned to school after the winter break.

* * *

It took Draco another half an hour to wake and make his way down to breakfast. He was surprised to find Hermione and his father sitting beside each other. They were eating while immersed in a conversation on the renovation efforts of Hogwarts and the restructuring at the Ministry for Magic.

"Granger," Draco said suddenly out of surprise at the scene that lay before him in the dining room.

"Good Morning, Draco," Hermione responded with a polite smile, though she was a little put out that she and Mr. Malfoy's conversation would have to be completed at a later date. They were the only two paying attention to the restructuring of the Ministry, and hearing his viewpoints on the changes challenged her thinking on the institution.

"How are you?" Draco asked, eyeing her as he sat down across the table from her.

"I feel better, eating, and pleasant conversation about something other than the war has helped." She said, tilting her head to Mr. Malfoy in thanks.

She couldn't help but think that Harry and Ron's head might explode if they saw her now. She was dining with the Malfoy's in the den of snakes. And she seemed to fit right in, academic banter with Malfoy senior and entertaining quips passed between her and Draco. They passed breakfast with an engaging and fast-paced conversation.

"Unfortunately, I must leave you two for the day; I am going to London to attend to some business. I will be back for dinner if you'd like to dine together again." Lucius stated as he rose from the dining table.

"Of course, Father," Draco said politely, nodding to his father with a smile. 

If he'd known how well they'd all get on, he'd have brought Hermione here ages ago. His relationship with his father was not all smiles and banter. But since the war ended, it was starting to become that way, and for that, he was thankful. He had a sneaking suspicion Hermione would help with that, having a foil between the two softened their sometimes-rougher edges. Neither wanted to fight around her or make her feel unwelcome, and at least for breakfast today, they'd been able to put their differences aside. And it gave him hope for their future.

For the rest of the day, Draco and Hermione spent their time reading in the library. Later in the afternoon, Draco attempted to coax Hermione onto a broom for a ride around the Manor's grounds. She refused politely, and so they took their lunch in the library, and she kept herself buried in the rare magical tomes that the Malfoy's had collected over the years.

* * *

By the time Lucius returned to the Manor from London, Hermione and Draco had both fallen asleep in the library. Hermione had curled up on the couch, while Draco was splayed on his stomach in front of the fireplace. Lucius could only smile at the sight; it had been a while since anyone was comfortable within the walls of the Manor. He attempted to wake his son, but Draco only shrugged him off and burrowed himself further into the fur rug he was laying on. 

When Lucius turned his attention to Hermione, he hesitated. Should he wake her? It was one thing to rouse his son, but she was a relative stranger. Their shared past was not something he wished to even think about, the memories too painful. But he decided it was probably for the better to return her to her chambers. 

He lightly shook her shoulder, crouching down beside the couch, so he was on the same level as her. He didn't want to spook her, but awaking to the face of an ex-death eater was probably not something she wanted to envision.

Her eyes gently fluttered open, and she looked at him, confused for a few seconds.

"Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, glancing around to acclimate herself to her surroundings.

"I just returned from London and was wondering if you still wanted dinner? Draco is content to sleep on the floor." Lucius explained, trying to keep his voice calm. He knew her history in this house; he had witnessed the most horrifying moments of it. He did not want to startle her, given her emotional state upon arriving at the Manor.

"Yes, dinner sounds great. Thank you." She said slowly, stretching as she sat up on the couch. 

He quickly left the library, not wanting to ruminate in the awkwardness of waking the girl. Soon she joined him in the dining room, where he had positioned himself at the head of the imposing table. She seemed skittish at the sight of the over-formal dining room, and he couldn't blame her. It had been years since more than a handful of people sat at this table. He preferred it that way, after what happened to Charity Burbage, in this room, he tried to avoid it as much as he could. There wasn't any other place to eat, apart from the kitchens, and pureblood manners die hard, it roiled his stomach to think of having a guest eat in the kitchens.

Hermione, _Miss Granger,_ sat down to one side of him. She gave him a small smile before turning her eyes downward. He felt odd around this girl. Guilty for his part in the pain that was inflicted upon her, but also curious. He had heard the whispers of her being the brightest witch of her age. The short mentions of her in the letters Draco sent home this year only stoked that fire. There was something different about her now. But then again, there was something different about everyone who had survived the war. 

"Was Draco a suitable host this afternoon?" Lucius asked though he wasn't interested in his sons' manners. He hated silence in this house; it had enveloped it for too long.

"When he wasn't napping on the floor, he was a superb host." Hermione, _Miss Granger_ , replied with an amused smile. 

Lucius nodded with a slight smile, not sure how else to engage the young witch in conversation. Their meetings had always been brief, and not something either would like to remember. Before he could delve deeper into his brain for something to converse about the young witch piped up.

"What're your thoughts on Minster Shacklebolt's proposition to expand the curriculum at Hogwarts?" She asked, a look of deep thought flashing across her face.

"Well, I do believe it could be beneficial for our society. As long as the courses are not chosen arbitrarily." Lucius mused, taking a bite of his dinner after he made his point.

"I imagine you're opposed to the addition of more complex muggle studies courses." Hermione almost spat at her plate, her anger evident, but her confidence wavering. She wouldn't look him in his eyes as she said it. 

He would've been lying if he said that the idea of muggle studies courses was something he was throwing parties over. But he understood the need for them, though many in wizarding England doubted him. He knew that those courses were imperative in trying to weed out the ignorance of pureblood mania; he was more educated to make that distinction than most wizards. 

"You seem to have not heard me correctly, _Miss Granger_ , I did say _our_ world. Though many have been dilatory in understanding the change in my nature since the war, I thought the bleeding heart of Gryffindor would be more discerning in her observations." Lucius replied, cold and aristocratic. She had put aside her past experiences to trust Draco, but had he indeed been naive enough to think she'd give _him_ a second chance? 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, prejudices die-hard as I think we are both well aware of. You've been kind enough to allow me to stay in your home despite our shared past; I won't insult that kindness again." She told him, turning a bright shade of red from embarrassment. 

"I understand, Miss Granger, being in this house can't be easy for you. Regardless of your current situation, which must add to the feelings of uneasiness." Lucius replied with a languid wave of his hand. He knew he'd come a long way from the years of hatred and bigotry that had marked most of his life. In truth, after the pain and difficulty of the war, he'd just found it hard to care. He'd spent so much energy, so many years of his life hating that ridding himself of those burdens was almost therapeutic. It was not easy, but he had devoted himself to the task when he realized he never wanted to spend another minute of his life in Azkaban. 

"Draco has been a great help to me, even if he doesn't think so himself. I don't think I would've made it through these weeks at school without him." She said, almost to herself, while staring down at her plate. He understood her uneasiness, but he was tired of speaking to the top of her head.

"He's said much the same about you, Miss Granger," Lucius replied, trying not to sound as interested as he was. For years he'd listened to Draco talk about the _know-it-all mudblood_ who was besting him in almost every class. 

"You can call me Hermione, Mr. Malfoy," She replied, "I think Draco and I are the only ones who can understand each other in that school. It's a strange thing, but it's been so helpful to me, at least." 

"How do Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, feel about your newfound friendship with my son?" Lucius asked; this was what he wanted to know. He didn't want to push her, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't interested in how 1/3 of the Golden Trio ended up seeking out his son for friendship, how she ended up here at his house for Christmas break and not at the Weasley's. He felt like a first-year digging for such gossip, but he couldn't deny his interest in the matter.

"They weren't pleased when they found out," She admitted, "they stopped writing their infrequent letters after they heard. But then again, they weren't making much of an effort with me since they started at the Ministry." She seemed almost embarrassed by how much she let slip, especially to him. He couldn't blame her; neither could've guessed she'd be revealing the personal intrigues of the Golden Trio to an Ex-Death Eater.

"Young men can often forget there is a world outside their most immediate concerns." Lucius mused to her.

"It was just, after the war, it was so easy for them. Ron lost his brother, but he had his family to help him through it. I lost everything and then had to pretend like it was just another year at Hogwarts. It drove a wedge between us," Hermione explained, now that she had started sharing it seemed that she couldn't stop. "and when they heard of how close I'd grown to Draco; they got the wrong idea entirely. Ron more so, and then I stopped hearing from them both altogether."

Lucius noticed the sad look on her face, and it stirred something in him. Though he tried to push down the feelings, it upset him how easily her lifelong friends had brushed her aside. 

"They thought you were romantically involved with Draco?" Lucius asked, letting his guard down for a moment to ask more pointed questions. He knew that he shouldn't be so interested in the personal life of a Gryffindor, but there was something about this witch that made him more and more curious.

"Almost everyone does, but he's like a brother to me. Like the boys were before the war, he's just a friend. No one believes me; we spend so much time together; they all just assume that something is going on. No one at the school talks to us long enough to try to find out the truth, though." Hermione told him, annoyance clear on her face. 

"I am sure this holiday getaway will do nothing to assuage those rumors." Lucius pointed out to her.

"Oh, I know, but I had nowhere else to go." She told him glumly, returning to the downcast countenance that she had worn so easily before she came here.

"Don't you have family somewhere?" Lucius pressed gently; he knew this was a sore subject for many people after the war. 

"Only my parents," She told him, tears brimming her eyes, "But I oblivated them as the war heated up, they don't remember me, and I don't know where they are anymore."

Lucius could only look at her in subdued shock. Erasing oneself from their own parents' memories was not a simple task; she must indeed be a powerful witch.

"Well, you are welcome here whenever you find the need, any friend of Draco is always welcome to the Manor." Lucius offered with a polite smile.

She only smiled back and nodded, and he knew he'd have to do more to earn her trust than rely on his manners. They finished what remained of their meal in silence, Hermione seemed keenly aware of how much she had shared with him. When they both finished, their eyes met once again across the table.

"Let me escort you to your rooms, _Hermione_." Lucius offered his tone one of the proud nobility. His manners always impeccable as he offered her his arm. 

She hesitantly laid her hand gently on the crook of his offered arm; it felt almost like he was leading a ghost through the halls of his home. 

They walked in silence down the long and dark corridors of the Manor, pretending to ignore the awkward air that surrounded them. When they reached the door to her rooms, she slowly retracted her hand from his arm.

"Thank you for being a friend to Draco." Lucius told her when she turned to look at him, "And thank you for having the heart to give me a second chance to prove myself to you; it is a rare chance that I do not take lightly." 

She smiled at him in response, giving him a nod before slipping behind the door and into her rooms. 

Tonight had been pleasant for Lucius, a conversation that he had not expected to have or to enjoy. Lucius was surprised; he found himself looking forward to the rest of Hermione's stay here. He could only smile to himself as he walked the short distance down the hall to his bedroom. This Christmas was shaping up to be one of the most interesting he'd had in years.


	4. A Mothers Call

Hermione and Draco spent a few days just basking in the absence fo responsibility within the gates of the Manor. No one to stare at them as they talked in the library, no one to judge them as they laughed over breakfast. Their only company was Lucius, and he seemed more concerned with matters unrelated to the two of them. 

Maybe it was due to this relative peace, the first she'd felt since her 4th year at Hogwarts, that she was taken off guard when she awoke to people arguing one morning a few days into her stay.

It was Draco and Lucius, of that she could be sure. She didn't want to pry, but it was impossible not to press her ear to the door of her room and strain to listen. 

"I can't leave her here," Draco said, his voice raised. They were outside of Draco's bedroom, right across from her room, which made it all the more simple to hear for Hermione.

"It's not as if I'd let her pitch herself off the roof, Draco, you're being ridiculous," Lucius replied. He seemed to be trying to school his voice, unlike his son.

"Why must I go? I have to be here." Draco continued to argue with his father.

"She's your mother, and it's Christmas. Do you wish to be cruel after everything she has been through? She asked for you; she misses you." Lucius tried to reason with his son again.

Hermione wasn't surprised that Narcissa wanted to see her son. But she wouldn't lie to herself and pretend she wasn't disappointed that their peace was being disturbed. She wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of being here alone with Lucius; she was a bit excited. The conversations between her and Draco were markedly different than the ones she had with Lucius. 

She and Lucius discussed the future while she and Draco were righting the wrongs of their shared past. She appreciated both in different ways; Draco was helping her to understand more of what had happened in their shared childhood. He was becoming a brother to her; she felt safe with him like she had with Ron and Harry.

The conversations she had with Lucius were helping her figure out where she wanted her future to go. They discussed the rebuilding of their world and how everyone was attempting to fit in. It was a refreshing change. 

Hermione was drawn from her thoughts by a knock at the door. She hadn't even noticed the conversation ending on the other side of the door. She quickly walked back to her bed, hoping whoever was there wouldn't realize she'd been eavesdropping.

"Come in!" She called, trying to look relaxed and grabbing a book for good measure. 

The door slowly creaked open, and Draco popped his head in with a familiar smile. 

"Hey 'Mione, can we talk?" he asked as he made his way across the room to her.

"Of course, Draco," she replied, putting her book beside her on the bedspread. 

"I hate to have to do this, but my mother wants to see me," Draco said, a grimace on his face showing his frustration.

"Of course she does, it's Christmas," Hermione told him with a chuckle, she knew why he was upset, but he honestly didn't need to be. "I'll be fine here Draco, your father has been a perfect host thus far, and I doubt it'll change."

"Are you sure? I dragged you here to leave you alone. It doesn't seem right." Draco said, wringing his hands. 

"Draco, I'll be fine if I need anything, then I'll floo you or send an owl. Don't forget you're just an apparition away." She assured him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"Okay, but if you anything happens, and I mean  _ anything _ , you write to me, okay?" Draco asked with insistence in his voice, reminding Hermione of how protective Harry and Ron used to be.

She could only smile and nod to him, she could handle herself, but it was nice to know that someone cared. Hermione couldn't deny that she had her dark moments, but her survival instinct had been finely honed during the war. Sometimes she felt like it was the only part of her that was still intact; she could handle herself better than most Aurors. Book smarts, coupled with battle-hardened skills, molded her into a dangerous witch when she required, though she didn't advertise that intentionally. 

Draco left that afternoon, a small suitcase packed and floating beside him as he sent her another apologetic smile. Hermione and Lucius stood beside each other in his study as they watched Draco disappear into a flash of green fire in the hearth, neither made eye contact after that. Hermione made her way to the library as Lucius busied himself with papers on his desk, neither sure of what they should do now that Draco was gone.

* * *

"Mistress Hermione, dinner is ready in the dining room." A house-elf said as it popped into her room. Hermione had to stop herself from flinching at the pop of the surprising intrusion.

"Of course, I'll be down in a moment. Thank you." Hermione told the elf with a smile, almost shocked that the elf didn't try to harm itself at her expression of gratitude. 

"I'll inform Master Lucius." The elf said before disappearing, not allowing Hermione anytime to speak.

Hermione was surprised, but maybe she shouldn't have been. It's not like the two of them could avoid each other for the entire time Draco was gone, but she hadn't given much thought to having to pass meals just the two of them. Maybe now they could continue their conversations on the restructuring of Hogwarts and the Ministry, just the thought of it made her smile. 

Hermione glanced one last time at herself in the mirror, unsure why she felt the need to ensure she looked presentable but chalking it up to the grandness of her surroundings. She quietly walked through the empty hallways towards the stairs that led down to the dining room. She stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase, feeling an itching burn emanating from the scar on her arm. It made her heart sink; she could not easily forget the terrible things that had been done to her in this very house.

Before heading into the dining room, she hesitated at the door. Her eyes were drawn to a doorway across the hall in a dark alcove. She felt both pulled there and sick to her stomach at the sight of the door, she couldn't place what was behind it, but part of her knew. It had to be where Bellatrix had carved that hateful slur into her arm. She knew it was a place she'd have to face before she returned to Hogwarts; if she wanted to move forward, then she couldn't continue to hide from her past. 

She drove the dark thoughts of the war out of her mind as she pushed open the door of the dining room. The sight of Lucius sitting at the head of the table across the chamber, peering over a book that was balanced against an unlit candelabra, made her smile. She felt like she'd never get over the feeling of tranquillity she felt at seeing the Malfoy men at peace, living regular lives, as they were meant too. It felt like the war was indeed over when she could see Draco laughing on his broom in the garden, or when Lucius was perusing a muggle classic in the library. 

"Hello, Hermione," Lucius said with a nod, wandlessly waving his book away further down the table where it gently closed itself. 

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," She responded with a respectful nod in his direction before taking her seat at his right hand. 

"You may call me Lucius, that is if you don't find it too familiar of course," He prompted her waving at the house-elves to begin serving their evening meal. 

"Thank you,  _ Lucius, _ " Hermione responded, the name feeling foreign but comfortable on her tongue, almost like the first spells she'd learned when she was 11. 

She enjoyed the familiarity of it, though it was something she never suspected would happen after the war. If any of her old friends saw her now, calling Draco's father by his given name. Enjoying a private meal with him at the Manor, with only the house elves to disturb their privacy, they would not have understood. Worse yet, a curse may be quick from their wands, as not everyone had been as understanding of the Malfoy's as she had been. Many still blamed them for their actions, though she could understand how one felt there was no other option when Voldemort himself was living within your walls. It's easy to get in over one's head, but harder still to climb out of a grave of your own making.

For the short and agonizing hours she'd been here before the end of the war, she felt the suffocating darkness that Tom Riddle had embedded into every surface within the Manor. Though she could understand the Malfoy's actions, that did not mean she condoned them. Draco had shown her his capacity for change, and that had helped move her along the path of forgiveness. Without him, she'd be among those rallying for constant supervision of the Malfoy patriarch, though sitting with him now, it wasn't wasted on her how disciplined he appeared to have become since the end of the war. 

"Tippy told me you spent most of the day in the library, did you find any of our tomes more  _ educational _ than those at Hogwarts?" Lucius asked her as the elves appeared with their plates. 

The inflection of his statement was not lost on her; she'd seen the tomes of dark magic in the library today and knew they must've been banned years ago. She was almost sure she'd heard Arthur Weasley discuss raids on the Manor looking for such forbidden materials though the Ministry hadn't found everything they'd hoped to find. The fact that Lucius and Draco hadn't hidden them from her made her chest swell with a twinge of pride; they trusted her to an extent. She was sure it was a test; they were Slytherin's after all. Hermione doubted they did anything without careful thought, particularly Lucius. 

"Quite, the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts is something I've always found rather tedious. It's pleasant to have access to a library without the same asinine  _ constraints _ ." She replied carefully; Hermione knew she had to walk the same line as the Malfoy men while she was here. Until they spoke freely with her, she did not feel confident enough to divulge their secrets in clear terms. 

"Ah, I thought for sure a Gryffindor such as yourself would only be interested in the prescribed curriculum of the Ministry." Lucius drawled, taking a bite of the braised lamb shank from the plate in front of him. 

"I found that one cannot rely on the government to lead them to valuable information properly," Hermione began, a quote from a muggle author springing to mind. "The muggle author Murakami once said;  _ If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking."  _

"A wise observation," Lucius mused, once again retrieving a bite from his plate. 

Hermione nodded, finally partaking in the dinner before her.

"I worry about the future of a school, and government that fears its past and more so the knowledge its future generations could gain." Hermione reflected, thinking on the recent restructuring of Hogwarts and the Ministry. Countless have campaigned for reforms in curriculums, and laws, including what is considered  _ acceptable _ for the next generation of witches and wizards to learn. 

"And what should a society do when it's facing a past full of brutality and darkness?" Lucius questioned, quirking an eyebrow at her inquisitively.

"I don't presume to have all the solutions, but hiding away the history and the knowledge that contributed to it cannot be the answer. Intelligence is not simply the act of knowing one's history but also understanding it. There is nothing more dangerous than ignorance when it pertains to one's errors." Hermione told him, working hard to put her thoughts into words. 

"Wise words from a schoolgirl," Malfoy responded with a smirk, and she knew he meant no malice with his words. 

"A battle-scarred schoolgirl," Hermione responded with a smile of her own, almost bitter on her lips.

Lucius did not respond, though she imagined she saw him flinch at the word scarred. She couldn't be sure; it happened so quickly that maybe it was the tiredness of her eyes deceiving her. 

They ate in silence after that, the only sounds filling the large dining room were that of the cutlery on plates and the quiet clinking of their drinking goblets. The silence didn't bother Hermione; it was comfortable. Their verbal chess match required careful thought, and her mind worked so fast she sometimes struggled to articulate her thoughts quickly enough to keep up with Lucius' swift banter.

When Hermione had finished her meal, she began to study the room around them; a few paintings caught her eye. She assumed they were of Malfoy ancestors, their distinct white-blonde hair being a particular clue. They all wore similarly pinched expressions like the one she remembered gracing Lucius' face when she was a child, though the paintings' airs seemed to have thawed little since the end of the war. She was contemplating how old the portraits may have been, how Lucius and Draco were related to them, and if they'd lived in the Manor when she was interrupted by a cutting voice.

" _ Filthy Mudblood!"  _ Shrieked the portrait of a man above the great fireplace, and it startled Hermione. Not because she hadn't heard it before, the war desensitized her to the term, but because of the unprovoked volume, the man used. He'd managed to hold his tongue for the entirety of dinner, but apparently, his vitriol could no longer be contained. 

_ "How dare you allow such vermin into this house, Luci-" _ The painting continued to screech, only stopping when Lucius forcefully waved his hand in its direction. Hermione thought it had to have been a silencing charm as the portraits' mouth was still moving, but no sound was coming out. 

"Forgive me, I should've placed that portrait in the attic  _ long ago _ ," Lucius said, more for the benefit of the portrait than Hermione. The two of them watched as he stalked out of his frame, losing interest in their dinner if he couldn't scream from his perch. 

"Would you perhaps like to accompany me on a walk through the gardens? I feel the need for some fresh air." Lucius asked her, turning now to give his attention solely to her.

"Yes, I'd like that very much," Hermione replied, feeling the pounding of her heart for the first time. As much as she had managed to school her face into one of pure boredom at the paintings outburst, she had still been caught off guard by its rant. 

Lucius gave her a small smile before rising to offer her his arm. Hermione looked at it for a few seconds before slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow. Lucius led her away from the dining room towards a glass door in the hallway, which leads out into the darkened garden. 


	5. An Odd Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being at the Manor with only Lucius was proving to be quite interesting, but how would the rest of the evening develop? Will Hermione's issues cause more problems, or will she discover a new friend where she never thought she'd find one?

The cold wind that whipped across the grounds stirred the snow that had blanketed the Manor's grounds a few days ago. Hermione silently cursed herself for not wearing a sweater as her skin prickled against the wind. She tried her hardest not to shiver, but it was a hopeless struggle. 

"Here," Lucius said quietly, summoning a cloak from the house. It was soft and fur-lined. Hermione pulled it tight around her shoulders and felt the chill begin the meltaway. It had to have a warming charm on it, which didn't surprise her, the Malfoys seemed to think of everything.

"Thank you," she responded with a smile, and Lucius nodded to her. She placed her hand back into the crook of his arm, and he led her towards a part of the garden that she and Draco hadn't explored yet. 

"What's through there?" Hermione asked, motioning to the gap in the hedges that Lucius was leading her towards. 

"I thought you might enjoy it; it's a portion of the garden my mother oversaw." Lucius began, "It's full of rare magical plants, it's quite extensive." 

Lucius continued to lead her into the garden nook, and Hermione was stunned by the land in front of her. The garden was dusted in snow, but it was impossible to deny that it was thrumming with magical energy. Some plants moved as if pushed by an ethereal force, others that seemed to emit a strange glow. She was gripped with the desire to learn their names and uses, but as her eyes traveled down the rows, she realized just how expansive it was. Hermione couldn't even begin to comprehend the time and effort that had gone into assembling this collection. 

"You seem impressed," Lucius said with a small smile, he enjoyed surprising her with the secrets around the Manor. 

"Completely, I've never seen a garden like this," Hermione said, barely able to rip her eyes away from the sight in front of her.

She and Lucius began to walk up, and down the rows, he would pause to allow her the time to inspect the plants she was particularly fascinated with giving her warnings only when she needed them. Some plants were poisonous, and others had much more human emotions, of which they needed to be cautious. 

"Thank you for this and for allowing me to stay here. It means more than I could say." Hermione told him with a smile; she hadn't spoken to him about why she was here apart from their brief conversation on her first morning at the Manor. She was feeling more comfortable around him, though it could've been chalked up to the whiskey they drank at dinner and their natural conversation. It felt familiar and friendly, much to her surprise. 

"As I told you before, Hermione, any friend of Draco's is welcome here," Lucius told her with a friendly nod. 

"Somehow, I doubt that, Lucius," Hermione chuckled, thinking back to Draco's childhood friend Crabbe and Goyle she couldn't help but think they would've frustrated Lucius to no end.

"I will admit," Lucius began carefully, though she could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "that some of Draco's companions have been far less polite and entertaining guests than you have." 

Hermione noticed a bench settled off to the side of the magical garden and began to walk that way. While the cloak was helping keep her war, her legs had grown stiff from their walk through the snow. She sat down, and Lucius soon joined her. 

"I have a question for you," Hermione began cautiously, "The door across from the dining room that leads to the drawing-room, doesn't it?" Both of them knew the significance of what was beyond that door. 

"Yes, it does," Lucius told her, "It hasn't been opened since the end of the war, I've meant to repurpose it but never found the time." 

"I'd like to go in before I leave if that's alright," Hermione told him. If he weren't comfortable with it, she wouldn't push the point. But she knew that to move past her nightmares, she'd have to face what happened in that room. 

"Are you sure?" Lucius asked, his eyes flashing in surprise before he schooled his expression.

"Yes, I think I need to. I haven't been in there since-" Hermione stopped short, they both knew the last time she'd been in there. Harry and Ron had heard her screams down in the Manor's dungeons, but Lucius and Draco had been  _ in _ the room. They'd watched it all happened, even if she could barely remember anything but Bellatrix's face and the pain she felt. 

Lucius only nodded; she was sure that the memories of the war were not pleasant for him either. Draco had apologized for standing by, but it'd taken him a while to open up about that night. Hermione was grateful that she'd been able to forgive Draco for his role first; it made it easier to understand the position Lucius had been in that night. If the situation had been reversed, if it had been someone else on the floor and her speaking out would've ended with her family dead. Well, she would've stood silent too, as much as it pained her to admit. 

"The healers at St. Mungo's tried everything, but the blade was cursed. It'll never heal properly; I'll have that  _ word _ carved into my arm for the rest of my life. Like a brand, from that  _ bitch _ ." Hermione spat, becoming angry at the mark that would mar her skin until the day she died. She hadn't meant to reveal so much to Lucius, but he somehow got her to open up with barely a few words. 

"Sorry," She muttered, but she didn't mean it; she meant every horrible word she'd ever spoken about Bellatrix.

"Don't be," Lucius said quietly, his eyes sweeping the garden in front of them instead of looking at her. 

They sat silently for a while, a tension hanging in the air. But Hermione wasn't sure what to say to him now, so she just looked out at the garden and tried to keep herself warm.

"Narcissa never did get over her sister's death; it was part of the reason she left." Lucius said calmly, "I tried to move forward, for Draco, but Narcissa was stuck in the past. Not that I can blame her, but it was surprising." 

Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes wide with shock at his openness. She wasn't sure what to say in response, it felt like such a sensitive topic to discuss with a relative stranger.

"She never understood my attempts to put the war behind us; it wasn't easy. But it's obvious that the old  _ sentiments _ aren't going to be tolerated, and I want my son to have a chance at a normal life." Lucius mused, almost to himself, but Hermione could hear him.

"That's - _ admirable _ ," Hermione responded quietly but was met with a barking laugh from Lucius. 

"It's not admirable; it's self-serving. But I've never claimed to be anything different." He told her, "To be honest, I am tired, Hermione. Tired of hating, tired of fighting, tired of being a pawn." 

"I can understand that." Hermione nodded, seeing his point. It was unrealistic to expect that Lucius Malfoy would change his beliefs because of  _ compassion _ , but instead, he needed to know that it would serve him better to be  _ better. _

"It doesn't anger you? Frustrate you? That compassion, such a Gryffindor sentiment, doesn't fuel my conversion?" He asked her, turning to look at her now with interest in his eyes. 

"I may have been a Gryffindor, but I'm not stupid; everyone's motivations are complex. Some need to see the benefit for themselves before conforming." Hermione retorted firmly; everyone assumed that because she was Harry's friend, she was a bleeding heart. She had championed for the rights of house-elves while in school, but she wasn't always so compassionate. 

"I haven't always been a compassionate, merciful person. I can't expect that from others; then I'd merely be a hypocrite." She added. If only he knew some of the things she'd done, he may think she had a streak of Slytherin in her. 

"Oh, do tell," Lucius almost purred, turning so he could face her on the bench. She'd piqued his curiosity, and strangely she found that she liked how interested he was. 

"Well, do you recall the articles Rita Skeeter wrote about Harry and me during the Triwizard Tournament?" Hermione asked him, trying to keep her tone measured despite the satisfaction she felt at what she'd done. 

"I believe so; they were less than complimentary, I assume?" He asked.

"They were complete lies, and well, swear you won't tell anyone?" Hermione asked, her smile finally starting to grow on her face.

"Of course," Lucius urged her on.

"Well, I discovered that she was an unregistered animagus, a beetle of all things. So I kept Rita in a jar for a week or so, told her I'd report her to the ministry if she wrote anything else about us." She finished, her grin was now undeniable. She knew it had been wrong, but it felt so good. 

"My, my, Miss Granger. That was very cunning of you." Lucius replied, donning a grin of his own now. 

"Yes, well, she deserved it. And if you hadn't noticed, she's never written another article about the three of us since, so it was worth it." Hermione mused, knowing that it wasn't very sympathetic of her to think so. But at least it had gained her some peace after the end of the war.

"Come, Hermione, it's getting late," Lucius told her as he stood, offering her his arm once again. They made their way back to the Manor through the snow-covered garden. 

Hermione made a mental note to return to the magical garden when she had the chance; she desperately wanted to study some of the plants held within. 

Once they entered the Manor, they parted ways; Hermione headed towards her rooms while Lucius headed off towards his office. Hermione's' eyes were once again drawn to the door of the drawing-room, and she fought the urge to go inside; she knew it would not end well. She thought that perhaps she would go once everyone was asleep so that she could have her breakdown in private. 

* * *

Lucius didn't raise his eyes from the papers on his desk despite the familiar pop of a house-elf apparating, but when he heard Tippy  _ crying _ , he stood quickly.

"What is it?" He asked her sternly, whatever had her in such a state had to be critical. Tippy rarely ever broke despite the harsh conditions that Manor had provided over the years.

"Miss Hermione, sir." Tippy managed to get out between her sobs.

"Hermione?" Lucius asked, beginning to become alarmed, "I order you to tell me this instant what is going on!"

"She's in the drawing-room, sir, Tippy tried to stop her," Tippy rambled hastily, "But she went in anyways, sir, she's so very upset." 

Lucius didn't need to hear another word; of course, the foolish girl had gone into the room. He should've been more cautious after she broached the topic in the garden, she seems unusually drawn to things that further damaged her. He was trying not to let his anger outweigh his concern; if Draco's stories had been only a portion of the truth, then she would not be in a sound state when he found her. 

Despite everything he'd seen in the wars, Lucius Malfoy was not prepared for the sight of her in his drawing-room. She was in a nightgown, curled into a ball, staring into nothingness. It was eerie, and he stepped into the dark and dusty room quietly as not to provoke any emotions from her. Lucius cursed his son for not being there to help him deal with the fragile witch in front of him; he'd been here in the room the night she was tortured. And he was sure that his face was not the one she wanted to wake her from her reflection upon the memories. His inner monologue was cut short as he approached her because he saw blood staining her nightgown. 

"Lumos," He said softly, using the light from his wand to try and determine where the blood was coming from. It didn't take him long to figure it out, though. She was scratching her arm,  _ deeply  _ scratching at the scar Bellatrix had gifted her, so strongly that she'd reopened the wound in some places. 

"Oh, Hermione," Lucius said sadly to himself, the witch was just as fragile as Draco had said. 

"Hermione, can you get up?" He asked her, shaking at her shoulder to try and rouse her. His only response was a few silent tears and an empty gaze that bore no resemblance to the witch he'd spoken with throughout the evening.

His further attempts at rousing her were just as useless, and he was at a loss for what to do. Lucius knew he needed to get her out of the room at least, and so he cautiously scooped her into his arms. He stood for a moment, just holding her, waiting for her to scream or struggle away from him, but she just laid their limply. So Lucius strode out into the entryway, wondering where to take her. He didn't want to leave her in her rooms alone for fear she'd harm herself further, but he also knew he couldn't very well stay with her in her chambers. So he settled on the library, she'd seemed so attracted to it during her few days there; hopefully, it would bring her some peace.

Lucius tried to settle her onto one of the couches by the fireplace, but she had a tight grip on his shirt, and thus he had to sit with her. The witch was practically in his lap, and Lucius was very unsure of the appropriateness of it all. But she needed someone, anyone, and if this wasn't a test of how much he'd changed, then he wasn't sure what was. So he sat there with her, basically holding her, and watched the fire.

She wouldn't relax, and if he didn't hold her hand, then she would start scratching again. It was exasperating and disturbing, but Lucius knew he had to try something else to soothe her. He used his wand to summon one of the books from the pile she'd made by the fire; he was surprised to find it was the muggle classic Great Expectations. He hoped that reading to her might calm her, and thus he opened the book.

"My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip." Lucius began to read, using the most soothing tone he could muster. He was surprised to feel her slightly relax in his arms, and so he continued. 

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling warm and safe. The safest she'd felt since the end of the war. She couldn't understand, but all she could remember was entering the drawing-room the previous night and being so overcome with emotion she thought she might suffocate. Hermione wasn't in her rooms; she was sure of that before she was even fully awake because she could hear someone speaking. 

"After Mr. Pumblechook had driven off, and when my sister was washing up, I stole into the forge to Joe, and remained by him until he had done for the night. Then I said, 'Before the fire goes out, Joe, I should like to tell you something."' She heard someone reading evenly, and recognized the voice as Lucius'. 

Hermione's eyes struggled to open, the exhaustion of her evening not entirely wiped away, and she became aware that Lucius Malfoy was holding her. Being read to by Lucius, and practically sitting in his lap. She wasn't sure if she should be embarrassed by her position or the fact that she liked it entirely too much. 

She finally resolved to open her eyes, blinking against the bright light of the fireplace. 

"Hermione?" Lucius asked, moving the book he was holding aside. 

"Yes," She began, finally feeling the embarrassment she'd been trying to avoid, "I'm so sorry." 

"Don't be," Lucius assured her, "Though I do wish you had waited to enter the drawing-room."

"What happened?" She asked him, finally noticing the throbbing pain she felt upon her scar. The blood on her dress made her stiffen in Lucius' arms. 

"Well, I'm not quite sure. Tippy retrieved me after the fact, but I found you in the drawing-room. You were very out of it, scratching into your arm." He explained, he too seemed embarrassed at their position. 

"Gods, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Hermione tried apologizing again, turning a bright red at the thought of how she must've looked. 

"I don't always remember," Hermione started to say, but stopped. How could she explain the episodes when she barely understood them herself. She just knew that she'd get so overwhelmed sometimes, and then she'd wake up hours late with some bruise or scratch she knew she'd caused. 

"I brought you here; I thought it might help calm you," Lucius explained, shifting slightly underneath her.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, slowly extricating herself from his grip and settling beside him on the couch. "Were you reading Great Expectations?"

"It was in your stack over there," Lucius explained, motioning to the pile she'd made the day before, "I thought it might help." 

Hermione only nodded, trying to comprehend how he'd changed so much from her school years. He wanted to comfort her, ease her pain, and he seemed as embarrassed by the evening as her. Though she suspected it was for different reasons, Lucius probably wasn't quite sure how to help. But he had, he honestly had. 

"Thank you," Hermione said again, feeling like the words were failing her. She wasn't sure how to tell him exactly how thankful she was for what he'd done.

"I couldn't well leave you there Hermione, without Draco here it's my duty to ensure your safety," Lucius told her, straightening himself regally where he sat. 

Hermione only nodded before looking around the room. Her eyes were drawn to the clock in the corner of the room, which read 4:36 am, and she realized why she was still so exhausted.

"I should let you get some rest," She told him, "It's so late."

"Ah, yes, it appears it is," Lucius replied, looking at the clock himself now. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for Tippy. She seems to have grown fond of you." 

She only nodded in response as the two rose to leave the library. Before walking out the door, Hermione noticed the wrinkles and bloodstains on his shirt, from where she'd been curled up against him. It made her smile slightly, but she wasn't sure why, so she tried to banish the feeling from her head as she made her way to her rooms. This whole night had been confusing, how had Lucius Malfoy calmed her when many had failed? How had he become such an enjoyable companion? She didn't know, but she had the itching feeling that the rest of her Christmas break would be very interesting. 


End file.
